


A happy twinkling in the heart

by sirona



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Breakfast, Daddy Steve, Domestic Fluff, Family, M/M, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a normal Sunday morning <i>chez</i> the McGarrett-Williams household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A happy twinkling in the heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Siehn, for help_yca. She asked for a mixture of angst and fluff, something quiet, family-oriented sort of thing with Grace, and the beach.

There’s the noise of a stampeding herd of buffaloes coming through the house. Danny smiles to himself, shaking off the last remains of drowsiness brought on by a good night’s sleep. It’s not always like this – sometimes it’s quieter, almost subdued, usually when it’s been a week of horrible cases that have left both him and Steve wrung out, running on too little sleep and too much adrenaline. On mornings like those, Steve will try to lure him back to sleep with soft kisses pressed to his temple, his jaw, like it’s any other morning and all Steve is about to do is dive into the ocean for a pre-breakfast swim.

Even when he’s exhausted, that ploy never quite works on Danny.

As it is, he’s up and about by the time said herd muscles its way through the house, splashing water onto his face and walking back into the bedroom just in time to look out of the window and see them race each other across the lana'i and the small beach and into the ocean, Grace’s happy laughter carrying the tune while Steve’s deeper voice weaves in and out of it like a harmony. They continue the race in the water, swimming away from Danny across the blue expanse.

Danny, watching them from the vantage point of his and Steve’s bedroom, tries to breathe through the squeeze in his chest at the sight of them, his two favourite people in the world together, happy and excited and no further than a shout away.

There had been a time once, a heart-wrenching few minutes, when his life as it is now had hung precariously in the balance, needing but a tap to move between bliss and total disaster. He hadn’t even realised – he and Steve had talked about it, and they'd decided to tell Grace about them a couple months before her tenth birthday, seeing as Steve had asked Danny to give up his money-drainer of an apartment and move in with him, in that vast house much too big for a single man. Considering the fact that Danny spent more nights there than not, it had been a natural progression.

Danny had been nervous, granted, but he'd been sure it would be fine, and had been trying not to think about it too much until he’d turned and seen Steve sitting at their table, looking, for the split second when he’d thought Danny hadn’t been looking, completely and utterly terrified. Danny had stared – he had never seen that look on Steve’s face before, and was already searching the room for what could have caused it when it had dawned on him, out of nowhere, and his heart had almost gutted him with how it had started pounding.

Because suddenly he could see this whole thing from Steve’s perspective. Steve, who was in love with a man who had moved continents to be with his daughter; Steve, who had seen every person he had ever cared about walk away, willingly or no; Steve, who understood all too well that if Grace said no, Danny would follow the ones before him just as swiftly. Danny could not imagine what it must be like in Steve’s head, watching helplessly as his happiness was decided for him, putting his heart and his future in the hands of the two people who could destroy him, and trusting them not to. Knowing without question that Danny would do _anything_ to keep Grace’s love and respect, putting her happiness above his own again and again. Knowing that as much as Danny loved him, he would always, always choose Grace over him.

Danny had never felt so small and useless in his life. Because yes, he would do anything to keep Grace happy, but he would also stand up for what he believed in, what he wanted, and what he wanted was Steve. This thing between them, this unlooked-for happiness in finding the one person whom he wanted to annoy for the rest of his life, it was too important not to fight for.

But before he could even _begin_ to articulate that to Steve, there had been the sound of a car stopping outside Steve’s house and the unmistakable noise of Grace running up to the front door and barging her way inside, unbearably excited about spending a school night with her dad and Uncle Steve. The change that noise had brought in Steve was instantaneous. His back had straightened, his face had shuttered until all that remained was the affection he always had for Grace. Danny'd felt his heart swell impossibly, felt the jerk in his stomach that Steve's love for his daughter always brought. He'd realised then that Steve loved Grace like she was his own, and whatever her reaction was he would never hold it against her.

And then, of course -- how could he have ever doubted his daughter, the most amazing person in the whole world, some days Danny is honestly _surprised_ how he could have had a hand in creating something so incredible and perfect -- she had sat down, listened to Danny stammer a little, watched Steve's look of apprehension that he could no longer hide, fixed them both with a look and said, “Is this about you and Uncle Steve being in love?”

Danny remembers that moment with a glaring clarity, Grace's unequivocal, unquestioning acceptance, her obvious exasperation with her silly father and uncle, and Steve's hand shaking ever so slightly as he'd lifted his beer to his mouth and taken a measured swig, like controlling his every movement was the only way to control the havoc of emotions inside him. He couldn't control his stupid smile for the rest of the night, though, and Danny was strangely glad for it.

Ever since that night, Sundays were sacred in the McGarrett-Williams household. Grace is a month off her sixteenth birthday now, but Danny can't remember her missing even a single one, no matter what else she had going on. She might go out with her girlfriends on Saturday, or for a meal and to the cinema with Rachel and Stan most Fridays, but every Sunday morning Steve would slip out of their bed, get dressed quickly and gun the truck over to Rachel's house at the crack of goddamn dawn, ready and waiting when Grace runs out of the house with her backpack, utterly certain he'll be there to meet her. And then they'll race back to the house and, yes, run through the downstairs rooms like a herd of some heavy-weight mammal or other, and throw themselves into their beloved ocean.

That sound is usually Danny's cue to get up, if he hasn't rolled out of bed already, trudge downstairs and rub his hands together, looking around his domain. He does things the hard way on Sundays, delights in it. He opens the cupboard over the counter, fetches down the industrial-sized Italian espresso maker his mother gave them one Christmas, unscrews the two halves, adds coffee and water and sets it on the hob, making enough so that all of them can get refills during the day. Then he starts on the breakfast -- pancakes, or muffins, or scones, or waffles, whatever catches his fancy in the morning. It's the only time he gets to cook and bake anymore, Sundays, when he has the people he loves to distraction with him, and indulges in the tried and tested Williams way of showering them with affection -- cooking anything and everything for them, and feeding them until they can't move.

Once coffee is ready, and whatever he's making is in the oven or resting on a plate, he pours himself a mug, adds cream and brown sugar, and lets his mouth curve into a sappy smile as he ambles outside and sits himself in his deck chair (the one on the right, not taken up by waiting towels), stretches his legs before him and watches them, sleek and graceful as dolphins, swimming side by side together, so beautiful in the flash of a shoulder, the sweep of an arm as they power through the waves, damn near synchronised. She is a ridiculously strong swimmer, is Grace, and it's not all the genetics of her mother's side of the ocean. It's the ruthless training Grace puts herself through without anyone prompting, badgering Steve behind Danny's back until Steve relented and started teaching her tricks that only professional swimmers and Navy personnel know -- how to deal with a cramp that might drown her, how to deal with clothing mooring you under, how to deal with being incapacitated in any way, whether by restraints or getting caught in a net of some kind.

When Danny had first found out Steve had been teaching her those things, his rage had been incandescent. He had probably glowed so brightly with anger that he could have been spotted from space. Worse, Steve hadn't backed down. He'd weathered Danny's worst tirades, taken on his rants and yells and stayed determined throughout. That more than anything had made Danny stop, made him think and question what the hell Steve thought he was doing. And it had been so simple, so blindingly self-evident once he did, that Danny had honestly been struck speechless. It was Steve's way of looking out for Grace, of making sure she wouldn't panic and make whatever happened to her worse, that she knows exactly what to do in any situation so that she stays alive, comes out on top. And he had done it knowing perfectly well that Danny would be spitting mad, because not doing it, not making sure that Grace would be okay no matter what came at her, it went against everything Steve was.

It had been that, finally, that diffused Danny's fury. Steve would never let anything happen to his daughter that he could do something about, the rest of the world be damned. And Grace had absorbed every scrap of knowledge like a sponge, growing up strong, confident, a young woman who knew who she was and what she could do, who knew that she could handle anything life threw at her. And really, there was no world in any universe where Danny would not love Steve all the more for it.

They come out of the water now, grinning happily, two wet figures that look related even if they aren't, tired but exhilarated by the exercise. Danny gets up and goes back inside, to check on breakfast and pour out coffee and set the table to welcome them back. He looks out of the window, and what he sees makes his heart stutter no matter how often it happens. He watches the two of them reach the chairs, Steve throwing Grace her towel before grabbing his and wiping his face down, revealing a startling grin, teeth white in his tanned face. Grace wraps her towel around her shoulders and says something, setting Steve throwing his head back and laughing helplessly before they both turn towards the window and wave at Danny, knowing unerringly he's standing there watching them. He waves back, smiling goofily.

He turns to the table, and before he knows it they're walking inside the kitchen side by side, Steve's huge hand resting comfortably over Grace's towel-covered shoulder, both of them looking mightily pleased with themselves as they drip all over the floor. Their matching grins only reinforce the father-daughter impression they give out as they approach the table and Steve gives Grace a friendly nudge towards her chair.

"Morning, Danno," Grace chirps, smiling happily at him and coming to smack a kiss onto his cheek before she sits down. She's almost of a height with him now, Rachel's genes making themselves known in her long, lanky shape and dark colouring. It makes Danny a little misty-eyed to see her grow so quickly.

"Morning, monkey," he says, kissing her back before bringing heaped plates to the table.

"Juice?" Steve asks, heading for the fridge. He detours to press a sound kiss to Danny's other cheek, making Grace giggle and Danny roll his eyes.

He brings the jug of freshly-squeezed juice to the table, settling into the chair next to Grace. The sunrays slanting through the window glance off the silver in his hair, more pronounced after nearly six years chasing criminals all over the island chain, but he looks happy, content, nothing whatsoever like that stoic, closed-off yet clearly hurting man Danny first met oh, coming close to seven years ago now. Obviously, whatever Danny's been doing since day one isn't just working -- it's sticking, too. Looking at Steve now, at ease with the world and himself as he sits in his kitchen and has breakfast with the two of them, a smile in his eyes, Danny has no plans for any kinds of changes, not any time soon.


End file.
